knowledge of the world than you, Zabra, and I know something more of
the disposition of such men. As long as he lives they will consider
themselves insecure. They can know no peace save in his death; and I am
convinced that they will use every exertion to accomplish it. I hope I
may be enabled to return in time to frustrate their intentions. I should
like nothing better than to expose their machinations, and to punish
them in an appropriate manner; and if the people exist in the same state
of feeling as when my father last wrote, I will show them something
they little expect to see. My father's friends are almost innumerable in
Columbus, and are always ready with hand and heart to serve him whenever
he will give the word, which he is always exceedingly loth to give;
and I think I may say that my friends in the metropolis are neither
despicable in number nor in influence, and are as eager to befriend me
in time of need; and I shall be quite as eager to accept their services.
I remember the times when I have been exercising my regiment, the
devotion that was displayed by both officers and men; but this I am well
aware was owing to their admiration of my father's virtues. Of them I am
secure. My fondness for military exercises made me labour to perfect in
discipline the troops I commanded, and they are now as effective a body
of men as ever entered a field of battle. They will perform good service
wherever they go. The national guard is another powerful engine to be
employed on such an occasion. In the metropolis alone they amount in
number to about twenty thousand; and they are devotedly attached to my
father. If there exist but a sufficient cause I know that I have only
to present myself amongst them, to induce them to follow me wherever I
choose to lead."
"I trust you will have no occasion for their services," said his
companion; "it is my belief that on our return we shall find every thing
in the most comfortable state, and all parties satisfied with each
other. Your military dreams will then be completely disappointed, and
you will be under the painful necessity of making up your mind to share
the well-earned honours of your father, and partake of a perfect state
of happiness with Eureka."
"Ah, Eureka!" exclaimed the young merchant with passionate emphasis;
"how rejoiced I shall be to return to her! I often find myself inquiring
into the possibility of a change in her disposition towards me."
"That can never be, Oriel;" observed the other.
"I have the fullest confidence in her fidelity, but sometimes I find
an apprehension intrude without knowing what produced it;" said his
companion. "There are no such self-tormentors as your true lovers; and
although I should be among the first to laugh at the suffering they give
themselves, I must acknowledge that on more than one occasion I have
endured a state of feeling which was any thing but satisfactory."
"By what was it occasioned?" inquired Zabra.
"Merely from my ignorance of the motives which have induced her to deny
me any communication with her till my return;" answered Oriel.
"You would not condemn her if you knew what made such a denial
necessary;" remarked his young friend.
"Very probably not: but the mischief of it is, I do _not_ know;"
said Master Porphyry. "Any thing in the shape of a mystery annoys me
amazingly, and this behaviour of hers appears to me most mysterious and
unaccountable. I think between lovers the most perfect sincerity should
exist. There should be no room left for doubt or suspicion. But in
the generality of attachments you will find much more deception than
sincerity. In the affections of youth there is an earnestness which is
the most natural and convincing that can be conceived; but as the heart
grows older, it gradually loses all this admirable freshness and purity,
and in a few short years it has recourse to artifices and disguises
without number. I detest deceit. I cannot imagine Eureka deceitful. I
hope never to find her so. To the truly devoted--to one who finds no
enjoyment like that which proceeds from honoring his adored as the
truest, the purest, and the best, there can be nothing so revolting
as the discovery that she whom he worships as one so pre-eminent in
goodness is the habitual practiser of contemptible deceits, hides
all her actions under a cloak of elaborate artifices, and lives in a
spider-like existence, spinning a dirty web to hide herself and betray
her victims."
"Eureka is of a very different character;" observed Zabra, who during
the preceding observations had appeared exceedingly confused. "She has
not deceived you in any thing which it was requisite for you to know.
She detests artifice as much as you do. But there are always some things
which the most sincere may find it necessary to conceal. The truth
cannot be spoken at _all_ times."
"You might just as well say that good money ought not to be passed at
all times;" said Oriel Porphyry. "That which is good ought to be good
upon all occasions, and truth is the very best of things in social
intercourse. It is the sterling coin of the affections; and she who uses
base counterfeits deserves the ignominy with which such vile cheating
should be punished. I have the very highest opinion of the female
character, and I desire always to think highly of womankind; but taking
the sex generally, I do sincerely think that they are amazingly fond
of disguising the truth as much as possible. It is a crooked policy--a
policy that in time poisons every better feeling a woman can possess.
Deception and a love of general admiration are her prevailing vices.
I am well aware that they are thought very innocent little foibles by
those who practise them, but on that account they are not the less
destructive to feminine excellence. Love is a passion of one for one
only. It ought to be excited by one object, and conferred on one object
alone. And thus exhibited, it is the purest, the most graceful, and the
most natural of human emotions. If either party introduce another as a
sharer in the affections, the whole feeling becomes tainted. What can be
more unjust to the lover who concentrates all his hopes on the exclusive
possession of the affections of the object of his fond idolatry, which
hopes have been called into existence by fond avowals and delicious
caresses, than for the woman whom he thus regards, to be just as
affectionate in her manner to a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth, and
a sixth? Some women seem to pride themselves on the number of their
admirers. What a miserable vanity it is! It is exactly the same feeling
with which an Eastern monarch used to regard the number of females in
his seraglio. Imagine the state of mind produced in a man of refined
intellect and delicacy of feeling at discovering that the lips he
thought sacred to his caresses were defiled by the caresses of another!
Or if she allow others merely to continue to profess to her their
ardent admiration, she evinces a neglect of the unalterable law of the
affections, which ought to be punished by contempt, scorn, and disgust."
"But no woman ought to be accountable for the admiration she may
excite;" observed Zabra. "The most virtuous woman may without the
slightest intention create an unhallowed passion in one of the opposite
sex."
"Women are remarkably quick sighted in every thing connected with the
affections;" replied the young merchant. "They can discover the earliest
signs of admiration, and every truly virtuous woman, if her sympathies
are pre-engaged, will endeavour to crush this feeling in the bud, and
show, by her displeasure and avoidance of the object, that he has
created no reciprocal emotion. If after such passion is declared she
continue to tolerate the attentions of her admirer, although she be
virtuous in other respects she has no conception of the nature of
perfect virtue. She is fostering an illicit feeling; she is encouraging
a passion she has no intention of indulging--a crime the most
destructive in its effects upon the happiness of the individual whose
passion she encourages; and as it is vicious in its tendency, because
it aims at indulgence at the expense of virtue, and as she assisted in
its developement instead of destroying it in its early growth, she is
answerable for all the consequences that may arise from its existence,
and has deserved the censure of being considered vicious in her
disposition. Toleration creates hope, and hope will love through all
difficulty; but no man, unless he be a fool or a knave, will love in
utter hopelessness."
"Surely these observations can have no relation to Eureka!" exclaimed
Zabra earnestly.
"Not the slightest;" replied his patron. "She is all I would wish her
to be; and the only cause of uneasiness she has given me during our
attachment is this mystery about the place of her concealment, and her
avoidance of any communication with me for so long a time."
"Your uneasiness will soon be removed, then, and the mystery will be
explained in a manner that will perfectly satisfy you;" said the youth.
"I hope so;" exclaimed his patron. "But I certainly do not like being
mystified by those in whom I take an interest. Mysteries, however, seem
most abundant around me just now. There is something very strange and
unaccountable in you, Zabra."
"Me! in me, Oriel?" replied his companion, in evident confusion. "What
can there be strange or unaccountable in me?"
"I have noticed many things in your behaviour exceedingly
extraordinary;" said the young merchant. "Your superiority to the
situation in which you were introduced to me has often made me imagine
that you are not what you assume to be."
"Not what I assume to be!" exclaimed Zabra in increased embarrassment.
"Is it possible I can be any thing else?"
"That is best known to yourself, and to her who sent you," replied
Oriel Porphyry; "but there certainly is a mystery about your character."
"A mystery! how strange you should imagine such a thing;" responded his
youthful companion, attempting to conceal his confusion.
"Then there's my father, he has _his_ mystery," continued his patron;
"it is some secret connected with that wretched aristocrat Philadelphia,
but what it is about he is not inclined to communicate."
"I have noticed it," said Zabra, recovering from his confusion; "and I
imagined it to be a knowledge of some circumstances connected with my
father's early life, the publication of which would do him very serious
injury."
"I cannot say what it is, but these things are very perplexing,"
observed the young merchant; "however, I hope to make my way through
them on my arrival at Columbia. How glad I shall be to see its glorious
shores again! Nothing is so likely to excite patriotism as exile; and
Columbia is a country worthy of one's patriotism; the first nation of
the world; its citizens have reason to be proud. I have beheld during
my voyage many lands and many people, but I have seen neither land or
people to be compared to Columbia and its inhabitants. I rejoice that I
am returning to them, and though I am glad that this voyage is nearly
at an end, I hope that my father will be gratified with my proceedings
during my absence; and then if Eureka's sentiments in my favour have
not undergone any change I shall have nothing to fear."
"Of Eureka's constancy you will soon be convinced;" said Zabra, in a
more subdued tone than he had previously used.
"I shall be delighted to find it so. But do you think that she would
have no objection to protect the gentle Lilya?" asked Oriel.
"None whatever;" replied his companion. "I am sure she will be much
gratified by your suggestion of such an arrangement. Lilya is timid and
perfectly ignorant of the world, yet she is docile and affectionate, and
with proper management I have no doubt she would become an amiable and
accomplished woman, qualified to adorn any rank in society."
"The creature is so shy that I can scarcely ever get a glimpse of her,"
observed his patron.
"She is almost always with me," said the other; "every thing appears to
be new to her on board the ship, and her pleasure at the novelties she
beholds is so genuine that it is delightful to see her. She requires a
companion, or she would feel quite alone amongst us; and I being about
her own age, she naturally feels more at ease with me than with any
other. Her diffidence is excessive; I cannot get her to associate with
any one except myself; but I have no doubt that in time she will gain
confidence, and join us in the cabin or on the quarter-deck with perfect
self-possession. She seems remarkably fond of music, and appears to
enjoy nothing so much as hearing me sing to her."
"Take care, Zabra;" said the young merchant, with a smile. "An ancient
poet has said that music is the food of love. The harmony of sweet
sounds, breathed around two such hearts as yours and Lilya's, will be
sure to put them in unison. If you go on in this way, existing in a
state of such intimate communion, it will be utterly impossible for
either of you to resist the soft influence of the tender passion, and
you have both of you arrived at a time of life when the disposition is
peculiarly susceptible to its impressions."
"There is no fear of such feelings being created, I assure you;" replied
Zabra.
"It seems to me very probable," observed Oriel; "your being so much
together is sufficient to produce such an effect. Besides, she is so
very pretty. What a depth of tenderness there exists in the soft blue
of her beautiful eyes! and her smile is positively exquisite. The rich
bloom of her complexion reminds me of some delicious fruit, it is so
warm, and soft, and tempting; and then the expression,--so innocent,
so artless, and so bashful, it is absolutely enchanting. I must not
forget her graceful figure, it is worthy of the highest eulogium for
being so delicately rounded. I am glad she has not thrown aside her
dress of skins and feathers, for, in my opinion, its simplicity and
picturesqueness would put fashion out of countenance. I never behold
her, whenever she does venture into my presence, but I imagine her to be
the Psyche of the heathen mythology, or some other amiable character in
that system of dreams:--the object of devotion to the immortal youth, or
the rosy cup-bearer to the gods. I assure you, I admire her very much."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Zabra, who had listened to these praises of Lilya in
evident uneasiness.
"Yes, she has interested me very deeply;" replied Oriel. "I am
charmed at the gentle being who has been so unexpectedly thrown on my
protection. I feel delighted at being able to gratify her unambitious
wishes; and when she comes shrinking into my presence, like a delicate
flower before the breeze, nothing pleases me so much as endeavouring to
assure her of her safety. And then the simple creature is so grateful,
and thanks me with such looks, that there is no resisting them."
Zabra's eyes gleamed restlessly, his lips became pale, and his cheeks
bloodless.
"I wish I could see her more frequently, and she would be somewhat
less reserved;" continued his patron. "It is so difficult to get her
to converse; yet her voice is so subdued and melodious that it is a
pleasure to hear her. It is seldom any thing beyond a murmur. She never
attempts to raise her voice into a more audible sound. She seems as
if she was afraid of hearing herself speak. After having been used to
the affectations and hypocrisies of female society, the artlessness
of Lilya's conduct and the purity of her nature becomes exceedingly
refreshing: I certainly do admire her very much."
Zabra, as if unable to conceal the emotions that were evidently
producing a most powerful effect upon him, with a look of indescribable
anguish hastily left the cabin.
"How strange!" exclaimed Oriel Porphyry, astonished at the sudden
departure of his young friend. "He must love her. I am certain from his
appearance while I was speaking in her praise, that he loves her, and
is jealous of the admiration I have expressed. How very strange!"
Zabra hastened to the quarter deck, where he sat himself down in a
retired corner, apparently in the most intense agony of mind. His dark
features were impressed with the workings of a violent passion; his
lustrous eyes shone with a brilliancy that was vivid and piercing to an
extraordinary degree; and his breast heaved with that full and rapid
pulsation of the heart which is the usual effect of great excitement.
Covering his face with his hands, he continued in that position for
several minutes. "That it should come to this!" he muttered in a voice
tremulous with emotion. "That it should come to this! What a reward
for all I have done and suffered! Oh agony insupportable!--Oh misery
scarcely to be endured! Where will the devoted heart meet with fidelity?
Where will the loving one, who feels and thinks and acts with no other
desire than for the happiness of the loved, meet with a like regard?
The dream is over--the delusion is passed--the hope which has led me on
seems utterly extinguished. But perhaps it may not be--I may be deceived
in my suspicions. It would look like injustice to condemn him without
a more perfect knowledge. I will observe them. But he said how much he
admired her; he said it to me!--Ah! it must be true."
Zabra was impatiently starting from his seat when he beheld Lilya
standing before him with every appearance of deep concern in her
countenance; he suddenly snatched her by the arm, drew her towards him,
and gazed in her face with a fierce and searching look.
"Why do you gaze on me thus?" inquired Lilya, shrinking from the stern
scrutiny to which she was being subjected. "Why is your look so dark? He
whom I used to call my father never looked thus on me, and you never so
regarded me before. Have I done any thing wrong, by which I could offend
you? How sorry I shall be if I have! Or are you ill? Let me endeavour
to make you better: I know where grow the healing herbs and the balmy
plants that are good for many different maladies. Let me gather them
and make you a drink such as may restore you to health; or shall I run
down the young leveret or snare the tender woodpigeon to procure you
delicate eating? Ah me! I forgot that I am not where either herbs or
plants, or leveret or woodpigeon are to be found, but on the wide waste
of sea, where neither green moss nor twining ivy, nor flowers, nor
trees, nor any leafy thing exists. But what can I do to make you
better?"
"Can I believe you?" asked her companion, relaxing in some degree in
the severity of his gaze.
"You can if you like, Zabra," replied the simple girl; "and I do not see
why anyone should not believe me, because I always speak the truth; and
why _you_ should not believe me seems so very strange. I always believe
you. I am sure you would not say any thing that was not true, and I
could not think of saying a word with an intention of deceiving you."
"You do not seem like one inclined to be treacherous;" observed the
youth.
"I never saw any one inclined to be treacherous, therefore I cannot say
whether I do or do not look in that way," said the girl; "but I am not
so inclined, that I am positive of, for I have nothing in the world
to be treacherous about, and it is impossible that I should ever be
treacherous to you. Now, Zabra, you look more like the good and kind
being I have known you to be. Ah! what a pleasure it is to listen to you
when you sing your delightful songs, or speak to me so persuasively of
virtue, and wisdom, and excellence, and all such admirable things. It
makes me forget how much I loved to watch the birds at their nests, and
the young kids at play; and hear the lark's song in the morning, and the
nightingale's at night. It makes me forget all my favourite haunts where
the choicest flowers used to grow. It makes me to forget all I once
found so pleasant to remember."
"You have noticed Oriel Porphyry, have you not?" inquired Zabra, fixing
on his companion a searching glance.
"Oh yes," replied Lilya eagerly; "he that is so noble looking. His eyes
are so bright, and his hair curls over his forehead so beautifully, and
he looks so kindly at me when I see him and talks to me so kindly, that
I like him very much."
"No doubt you do!" exclaimed the youth, with considerable bitterness.
"I have not been much with him, for I feel quite afraid of him;"
continued Lilya. "He seems to me so very grand and proud in his
appearance, that I dare scarcely look at him when we meet, and as for
speaking I have then neither voice nor words. But he appears so good.
He takes my hand in his, and he presses it so gently, and he says to
me such encouraging things, and he looks upon my face with so much
earnestness, that----"
"Oh it's palpable!" cried Zabra, hastily interrupting his companion,
and regarding her with a gloomy scowl.
"That I cannot help feeling that I like him very much; and, although
I am afraid to utter a sentence, he still continues his kindness, and
never lets my hand go from his. However, I must try to tell him how
grateful I am. It is very foolish of me, I believe, in not saying how I
feel towards him. But how you look at me, Zabra!" exclaimed Lilya, as
she noticed the dark and angry expression of her companion's features.
"Is it displeasing to you that I do not express the sentiments I
entertain? I will confess them. Are you angry because I do not like
him so well as I ought to do? I will like him ever so much more."
"Truly, you are obedient!" observed the other, with sarcastic emphasis;
"a pattern of one who is willing to please! There cannot be a question
about your dutifulness. Dupe, that I have been not to see your
artifices! But who could have supposed that, under such apparent
artlessness, there lurked so much treachery? Your deceit is well done.
None would suspect it. It is the most finished piece of falsehood that
ever was acted."
"Falsehood! Deceit! Treachery!" exclaimed Libya, astonished and alarmed
by the violence in the language and conduct of her companion. "What are
such things to me, Zabra? I know them not. They cannot be for me to
use. Oh, why do you look at me in so unkind a manner? They are not the
looks that make me happy. I see you are angry with me, and I know not
for why. I must have done some great wrong, or you would not behave to
me in a way so unlike what you have used me to. And, indeed, I did not
do it intentionally. I would not have offended you if I could have
avoided it. What shall I do? Tell me what I shall do to acquire your
forgiveness, and I will never repeat the offence again."
"And do you think that I will now believe these professions?" inquired
her companion, with considerable asperity. "Do you think, after having
been once deceived, I would allow myself to be the victim of the same
deception? Oh no! that can never be. You are discovered. I know you
thoroughly. Away with you, and let me no more be made miserable by your
presence."
"Alas! alas! what heinous wrong have I done?" exclaimed Lilya, as the
tears made their appearance on her cheeks. "I know not what it is--I
cannot imagine any thing, unless it be my behaviour to Oriel Porphyry,
that offended you. I acknowledge he deserved better treatment; but, if
it be your desire, I will immediately go and tell him all that I think
of him: and when he looks so kindly, and talks so kindly, and presses my
hand----"
"Away, vile hypocrite!" shouted Zabra, as with looks of indignation and
rage he pushed Lilya aside, and rushed from the place. She gazed after
him without uttering a word. Her spirit appeared quite overwhelmed; and
all the confidence she felt in his society completely deserted her. The
heart of the timid girl seemed filled with a sense of desolation she had
never before experienced, and she sat down in the seat he had vacated,
and wept. Here she remained, in the full consciousness of her
unprotected state, till the sound of approaching footsteps made her
hurriedly seek concealment in some obscure part of the ship.
"The Albatross is crossing the Atlantic in very brilliant style, I
think;" observed the young merchant.
"Yes, sir, she does spank along pretty smartly," replied the captain.
"But it's utterly impossible for a better bit o' timber to be found.
She's been tried in all sorts o' weathers, in all sorts o' seas; and no
matter whether we were doubling the Cape, or beating about in that ere
terrible monsoon in the Bay o' Bengal, she stood on her feet like a
trump, and answered to the helm as sensible as any born cretur."
"Our passage home will be brief and pleasant, I should imagine, from the
portion we have passed," remarked Oriel Porphyry.
"There's no knowin' sir," said old Hearty, seriously. "Sometimes it's
fair weather and sometimes it's foul, and sometimes it's a bit o' both.
The weather's the most unsartaintest thing in nature; it puzzles the
wisest on us. It's quite optional whether it has a mind to blow one way
or t'other, and sometimes it seems as if there was a reg'lar blow up wi'
ev'ry wind as blows, and they gets a skylarking wi' one another most
considerably."